


Come to America

by Dark_Intentions



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice, inspired - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Crime, M/M, Multi, Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Intentions/pseuds/Dark_Intentions
Summary: Three hundred and sixty five years is a long time.What he would dream of giving for years he was well aware he would some day lose.
Relationships: Andros x Lafayette





	Come to America

**Author's Note:**

> The vampire's tired eyes went to him and he nodded, "I worry." he said, finding himself being honest with the boy.

The night was dark and the studio-like apartment in the center of the most exclusive neighborhood in Germany seemed to be alive in the shadows cast by the dimly-lit lights all around. The light was sort of golden, and it reflected on Andros just right as he sat in the middle of the living room, in his throne of a sofa looking like he owned the very air around him. There was a glass of Golden Virgin in his hand and he sipped, slowly. Shrewd, deep and icy blue eyes stared ahead. Thoughts running through his head. He was always thinking. He was wearing his 'home' pants, elegant still, yacht style, but light and more comfortable than his usual suit pants. Comfortable shoes and a navy shirt, also 'homey' but expensive-looking and stylish, fitting him just right. Lafayette was around or would be, the boy knew this was his last night in Germany before he went in search of Rhule. He'd finally been able to track him to that quaint little town... Clifton Forge. anticipation bristled within him. It had been three hundred, fifty-six years since he'd seen him. What would he look like? What would he be like? Questions all that plagued him.

These words were reptilian, crawling under his skin while Lafayette slept. His body became a solid rock; tension thread through him and denied him the freedom to open his eyes and the waves beneath the ship offered solace that could not be reached. A blaring horn of warning echoed loudly in his ears, and he would shift there on the bed reacquainted by the fear that continuously welcomed him into it's embrace; bogies grinding along the tracks sparking at a screech.

He could see his father there and tried to move and to yell for him to get out of the way of the incoming train but his exclamation fell on deaf ears. The ship rocked when the nose approached land, and those hands of life shook Lafayette awake where when reality came crushing in at full speed, the reverberation of a train horn was in actuality the drone of silence and the damask room filtering through the surreal. 

Slow bare steps partook down the narrow hall, where a brilliant and dim light crept around the corner as though to call to Lafayette without using a voice. There within the living room was a stronger presence, where when persistent to follow the call would continue until the same quiet he tried to keep landed him behind the tall back of a sofa. Andros heard his heartbeat long before the boy made his appearance. The way he was was so characteristic, everything about him spoke of his own internal idiosyncrasies. Manners when he spoke, ways he slept and breathed, smells, looks, tones, hand movements, everything was accounted for. "I can't rest." He firstly informed him in a whisper. Raising his hand, he would settle it there on the back, questionably before walking around to stand there at the side staring ahead at nothing in particular. Then, he looked to Andros. "Something must be plaguing your mind." The air was too quiet where he was, it reminded him of the ship he exited upon entering Germany. Right when he was convinced the nightmares had ended.

The vampire's tired eyes went to him and he nodded, "I worry." he said, finding himself being honest with the boy. 

What had started as a bond between a blood doll and a vampire had evolved into a unique and rather curious relationship of sorts. The stoic man hardly ever spoke or opened up, but the boy had earned his place with his wits, good sense and smart manners. Know when to fold and be silent and know when to act freely.   
Before Andros met him, Lafayette was a mess. They met shortly after he tucked his luggage at the Inn. He never understood what was so entirely detrimental about the abrasions on his arms or the peculiar habit of a cut lip he did not give the time of day to heal completely. It was the blood. Something in the blood his mamma proclaimed frantically, you don't belong here! Leave us! Lafayette pondered why his drug abusive mother thought his illness a crime, to be addicted to ones own blood, was there any shame? 

It made today of enduring the final thread of tangled nuisance regarding nightmares appear like Child's Play. For once, the boy ignored the urge to peel back old scabs because his mind was distracted and dedicated to someone and something outside of himself that appeared to tame (or at least assist in the act thereof) that nagging, and persistent Voice. However, Andros would be leaving to the small town of Clifton; Germany had no rationale with Lafayette. He planned to only be in Europe for at least a week more maybe a month, it was a rest stop- a place he wished to visit in the interval of protracted travels. Germany was a place to stop and think: Dad. Wait until you see me now, you would be proud of your boy, he's become a man. He lives out on his own now.

"I have not seen Rhule in three hundred and fifty-six years, Lafayette." he said. The boy would know that Numel, the Prince over their territory back then, had stolen the boy from right under his nose at the age of sixteen and Andros had not laid eyes upon him again. What would he look like, what would he be like, voice, actions... would he still be the same nurturing boy he was or would age have corrupted him beyond recognition? "Will you come to America with me?" he asked, icy blue hues finding the boy's.

His soul ached for adventure, he had nearly an entire life ahead of him, despite this he was a worm for lessons learned. Lafayette crawled, coiled and stretched out onto ideologies and clung to doctrines- any and every thing that could emotionally, as well as perpetually be installed into his psyche. He was someone in whom wanted to change with time, to bloom outside of the catacombs some day and pass by other's without raising a hair of suspicion. Andros worried. Yes, he was silent even now, as he breathed alas, he knew that Andros could hear a pin drop from across the room but could he hear his concern? He wondered. Three hundred and fifty-six years was a long time, what he would dream of giving for years he was well aware he would some day lose. 

The blue were met with a pair of hazel, more prone to appear dark in contrast than the gold they attuned to out in the sun. Respectfully, he had nodded to the request. "I will leave to America with you. You have helped ease my mind, and I no longer harm myself because of it. I don't think there is anywhere you would ask of me to go that I would not follow." He too was curious about Rhule and their involvement. "Good." Andros continued "I have grown accustomed to your presence" he nodded.  
Two creatures of habit, pernicious habits indeed, but when had that acted in detriment of Andros' desire? Never. They had met when Lafayette was living a life of excess and the debauchery had been perfect for the vampire to sweep in and charm the boy, charm, compel. Potato, potatoe. 

There had come a day when the boy was compelled no more, having earned Andros' trust. Both had tumultuous pasts, each in their own ways, but they had found some common ground somewhere along the way, realizing they fit one another in ways they didn't with other people. Unforgivably, the boy was one that never needed much compelling to start with unless it was to stop him from doing something devious. Andros' had patience with him, but he had learned that this father figure was also strict, His aura one that a mortal could not contain. It was neither soft nor coarse, yet also unpredictable one fleeting second to the next. For Lafayette, this served as a grand trait, for he did not embellish with enlightenment to doing what was or would be disagreed with for too long: one glance could now have led him to drop the dull-edged scissors from his hands for an example of one.

Since the voice had ever only currently visited Lafayette in his dreams instead of when his eyes were opened, Lafayette had found that he had forgotten most of the troubling things. Andros knew practically all that there was about him, with each year had come a new discovery, and he had also forgotten killing another in his past, while remaining the star pupil in the vampire's eyes- if he could even call himself that. Lafayette was far from perfect, dedicated and wise perhaps but far from being as sly as the serpent. He would soon grow into his own skin, until that day comes, he would remain dedicated to this purpose here.

It was quite the unforeseen feat, surprising in many ways, unbeknownst to most. They shared a connection that at times needed no telepathy, no special additions nor abilities. The reason why Andros had decided to take the boy under his wing, protect him, help him in ways not even he had anticipated.  
He extended his hand, "Come" he uttered, quietly, hand still reaching out for the boy to take, an invitation to share the sofa with him. This, Lafayette would know, was an honor bestowed solely upon him. It was the boy who saw a different side of Andros. The father figure, the lover, the confidant, the nominator. They knew one another as one could know their own face. Every crevice, every beauty mark, every wrinkle. 

At first, the reluctance returned within the blink of an eye. The outstretched hand accompanied by words were a lure through the fog, an invitation into the unknown as it always was. Lafayette did take his hand, led to the sofa where he would proceed to sit if not stopped along the way. It was with every rare gift to be taken humbly, to treat with the utmost tenderness as though it were frail, as though to take advantage of a thing so delicate would be to destroy the connection between them. The hand was taken and only released when the boy sat close to him. His warmth was something he had always appreciated, it provided a comfort not many things did. There had been many times when the boy had been compelled, not for his blood, but for his safety, and through the years, Andros had locked away certain memories, certain triggers that had helped the boy flourish into the astounding creature he was today. 

Comfortable at a distance where he could see this view of an idol he valued, the superlative perfection he feared he often was far from equivalent to as well. "Are you sure you haven't already tired of me?" Lafayette quipped, wryly smirking. He wanted to smother this intolerably thick mood, unsure of how. When the question came, his deep blue eyes looked at Lafayette. "Mmmm... do you think you would sit here if such was the case?" he asked, canting his head. "No, I do not tire of you." he said with a slow shake of his head. The boy willed himself to look from his peripheral to the other, then had just as quickly looked away as though the later words were all that it had taken to reassure him. Then the smallest of chuckles came from Lafayette with the disagreement; gaze locked upon folded hands there on his lap with a single thumb nervously scraping the back of a hand. "You are right, I would not be here." 

But, "When are we leaving?" he catechized. One question after the next, it was not in his demeanor to be chivy. Andros looked at him. "In three days time." he nodded. There was never 'fun' in the conventional sense around Andros, thick moods were a thing with the 500-year-old vampire. But there had been times when the boy had helped a softer side of him surface. Yes... the boy held power of his own. "Do you have everything you need to take with you packed?"  
After, Lafayette bowed his head, in the span of saying zero, he made clear the discernment that they would be leaving in three days. He would lift his chin and gave in to a subtle nod, letting his focus drift back to the older man. "Yes, Sir. All of my clothes have been washed, and folded and tucked inside the luggage." He did not require many clothes, though he was the ambitious type to have pondered the likes of a walk-in closet full of different suits and shoes, Lafayette was simple when it came to residing inside of another's shelter other than one of his own. He never asked for much.

"And in fact I find my drink to lack a taste I have grown used to... unlike another palatable delicacy that usually fills my needs." his eyes were directly on Lafayette. "Come closer..." he beckoned. Lured by a tone that need not further instruction, he had then shifted onto the sofa to draw up his legs with the push supplied by his toes on the edge so that he may close the distance between alongside a lean toward Him. Once he were fully, albeit comfortably and partially knelt beside Andros, Lafayette would pull back the sleeve of his flannel. There on his inner wrist was an array of scars taking a variety of shapes and sizes, and beneath them; blue were his veins connecting under overpasses and coexisting with thin, bulging bridges busy with life. 

Lafayette would offer this to Andros, acknowledging those words spoken to be as hidden interest. "Would my blood suffice?" After all of this time, there was no doubt that it would not. Then again, he would always offer lest it be taken without.


End file.
